


Sketchbook

by Kookaburra



Category: Transformers, Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Dancing, Elections, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Humor, M/M, Vignette, affair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-17
Updated: 2011-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 20:48:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kookaburra/pseuds/Kookaburra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A catch-all for bits and pieces of writing that don't have a home story yet. Feedback is most appreciated!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Golden Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> This vignette is from a scene in an AU that has been percolating in my head for awhile, where on Cybertron Mirage and Optimus Prime are in an arranged marriage.

Hound’s vents stalled as he gazed into the blue optics a mere handbreadth from his own. The sound of the abandoned aqueduct faded from his consciousness as his whole world was filled with Mirage.

 _This is wrong…I can’t…_ Disgust and desire warred within his spark. His Prime had _entrusted_ him to keep his consort safe, and now Hound was actually considering leaning forward to close the space between them and press his lips to Mirage.

He wasn’t so naïve as to think that one kiss would be enough. Every circuit burned for Mirage’s touch. If he functioned until the heat death of universe he would never have enough of the smart, funny, _incredible_ mech before him. But he was also loyal to his Prime, and would rather pierce his own spark than betray his beloved leader. Hound switched off his optics, hiding that open, lovely, perfect face from his visual sensors, trying to regain his composure.

Then soft lips captured his, and he was lost.

Hound’s world was consumed by deep blue and pure white, by Mirage against him, under him, atop him. By the way the dual suns of this world bathed Mirage in deep orange light. Fire erupted wherever Mirage touched him, and no amount or depth of kisses could quench the fire in his spark as they joined.

Soft, whispered words flowed between them, but Hound’s spark was so full of ardor that he couldn’t process them. All the curves and planes of Mirage’s chassis that he had only coveted from afar were explored and mapped with a scout’s diligence. He reveled in every static-filled moan and cry he was able to coax from Mirage’s vocoder.

Then Mirage pulled him close, shuddering around him and pushing Hound even closer to the edge.

“ _Hound,_ ” he gasped, and the sound of his name on Mirage’s lips was Hound’s undoing. The flames burned white-hot within him as he fell into overload, and then into peaceful darkness.

When Hound came to himself he was surprised to find the grotto where they had encamped was not consumed by fire – borne of their passion or of Primus’ judgment on him, either would have been expected.

 _What have I done? Oh Primus, what have I done?_

Beside him, against him, _in his arms_ Mirage recharged peacefully, his every soft ventilation an accusation against Hound.

Hound knew he should disentangle himself, leave the scene of his sin before he was tempted again, but instead he pulled Mirage closer, allowed the scent of ozone, blown fuses, and the heavy unmistakable essence of _Mirage_ to sweep across his chemoreceptors.

 _Just a few more nanokliks,_ he told himself. _Just let me hold him a little longer…_

As he lay on the cracked and crazed flag stones of the abandoned citadel, Hound’s processor threw image after image of his Prime at him – of how fondly he gazed at his consort, of the grief and fear in his optics when it was discovered Mirage had been captured by Megatron during the coup and occupation of Iacon, of the joy and love in his voice when Hound’s team had returned Mirage to him…

 _He appointed me to be the protector of his consort. He_ trusted _me with his most precious treasure. And this is how I repay him!_

Mirage sighed and shifted against him. Hound saw a scrape of deep green paint on Mirage’s thigh and guilt stabbed him anew. Now his imagination manufactured the spark-deep hurt and anger that would play across his Prime’s face when he found out about this outrage.

The prospect of hiding their love from Optimus Prime made him feel even guiltier. _Never. I could never lie to him. I must confess, and face the consequences._

A hand caressed his cheek plating, and he looked back down at Mirage, who was now online. _This was a mistake. We shouldn’t have done this, Mirage._ He pressed a kiss into the palm of Mirage’s hand, and lost himself in Mirage’s dark blue plating and bright optics once more.


	2. Ahead in the Polls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally written for the Transformers Anonymous Kink Meme [here.](http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/8251.html?thread=7353147#t7353147)  
> Original Prompt:  
> 
>
>> Original Request:  
> REQ: TFP - Starscream poll dancing.  
> Yes, you read that correct.  
> Starscream can either be drunk or completley sober as he works his magic on a random poll that is on the Nemesis to his adoring audience.  
> Bonus points for someone wondering how he got so good at it, and for Knock Out to throw credits at him once he's done.  
> Smut or not, I will be grateful!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was what popped into my head when I read the above typos. It's really very silly.

“This is…really weird, Knockout,” said Breakdown, watching the spectacle before them.

“Be quiet, I’m trying to enjoy the show.” Knockout leaned back, settling in to observe.

The Vehicons were gathered in the main cargo bay, all attention focused on the figure and the object in a clear circle in the center.

Starscream posed, at times almost motionless, allowing the light filtering down from overhead to glitter off of his graceful wings and flow over his lithe chassis. Then, as if to music that only he could hear, he would move, pelvic unit gyrating, backstrut bending, around the structure that also occupied the center of the circle.

“What _is_ that thing?” whispered Breakdown. “It’s slaggin’ _creepy_.”

A small cubicle with an open top and three walls, just big enough for one mech to fit into was next to Starscream, and it was around this that he danced. The fourth wall of the cubicle was a curtain, and when Starscream glided by, one of his wingtips twitched, and caught the curtain, briefly exposing a computer terminal, and …a _lever_?

“I have no idea, Breakdown.” Knockout took a sip from the energon cube he was savoring. “As my assistant, I’m commanding you to go find out.”

“What? Me?”

“You’re showing excellent initiative and scientific curiosity. As your mentor, it is my duty to foster and encourage you. So go find out. Maybe you can ask Soundwave.”

Breakdown looked over at the silent, brooding hulk of Soundwave, who was staring motionless at Starscream’s display. He shuddered.

Both mechs stiffened as a lone Vehicon suddenly stepped out from the group. A wave of tension rippled through the assembled mechs as the Vehicon approached Starscream. Even with his back to the mech, Starscream seemed to sense that his dance had had the desired effect. He spun around on one heel turbine, and all but sashayed over to the mech, who now stood still, as if having come this far, he was undecided about how to proceed.

Starscream stopped just shy of the mech, and performed a solicitous wiggle, before stepping backwards and crouching down, undulating his hips as he went and keeping his backstrut arched so that his thorax jutted out proudly. The Vehicon took an uncertain step forward. Starscream stood and stepped back again, gesturing and leading the reluctant mech towards the shadowed booth.

Knock Out leaned forwards, resting his chin on a hand. This was _fascinating._

When they reached the booth, Starscream twitched the curtain aside, and all but pushed the mech in.

The tension in the circle was tight, Knock Out could hear no ventilations, no hiss of hydraulics – all attention was on the booth.

Suddenly there came a low _ker-chunk_ from the interior, and the Vehicon stumbled out, seemingly unharmed. The mech stood uncertainly in the light for a moment, but then Starscream was on him, rubbing against his chassis in the most… _stimulating_ way.

All at once there was a press of bodies – Vehicons were pushing and jostling to get into the booth, but even though Knock Out could see no method by which the horde was being kept from completely trampling the flimsy looking structure, they only went in one at a time, despite the queue-jumping, rough-housing, and general disarray that was the Vehicons’ MO.

He turned to make a really _witty_ remark to Breakdown, something that would have had him _marveling_ at Knock Out’s cleverness, but Breakdown’s seat was empty. Knock Out caught sight of him wading through the masses, to get to the booth.

Starscream’s strange behavior had only intensified, and he was gyrating, rubbing himself all _over_ the Vehicons that were entering and exiting the cubicle.

Knock Out smirked when Breakdown moved to avoid Starscream when he entered the cubicle. After a few moments, Breakdown emerged again, a dazed and confused look on his face.

“ _Well?_ ” Knock Out said when Breakdown emerged, trying to affect an air of insouciance. After all, he was just on this rust bucket until Megatron was repaired. It wasn’t like he really cared what madness Starscream got up to in the meantime.

“It’s…it’s really… _weird_.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I – I don’t know what it is, really.”

“ _Fine._ ” Knock Out pushed a long suffering sigh through his vents and got up from his perch on the bulkhead. “I’ll see it myself.”

“I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”

Knock Out ignored him, and pushed through the sea of mechs to reach the cubicle. Although he didn’t have Breakdown’s bulk, he was able to make a fair amount of headway since the Vehicons were fairly biddable.

When he reached the curtain, Starscream stopped dancing and a slow smile spread across his faceplates. “Are you ready to enter, dear Doctor?” He spun around and drew back the curtain, revealing the shadowy recesses of the booth.

“You know, there’s a lubrication specialist who you should see in the Nevarri sector. Here’s his card,” Knock Out slipped a datachip into the gap between Starscream’s abdominal plating and his pelvic unit. “I could hear you creaking from all the way outside the room.”

Starscream’s solicitous smile vanished. Before he had a chance to retort, Knockout entered the booth and pulled the curtain shut.

 _Now, what have we here?_

A simple computer console was quietly humming away. After looking it over to make sure there were no booby traps waiting to be sprung (Knock Out wouldn’t put _anything_ past Starscream) he read the words on the screen.

 **KNOCK OUT’S PAINTJOB LOOKS LIKE RANCID ENERGON. _SCUFFED_ RANCID ENERGON.**

 **YES - 37**

 **NO - 1**

Over his roar of rage, Knock Out could just barely make out Starscream’s gleeful cackle.


End file.
